


sticks / stones

by antiseed (knightspur)



Series: romance is boring [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - College/University, Awkward Sexual Situations, M/M, Masturbation, Porn With Plot, Puppy Play, Sex Toys, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 10:32:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15839433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightspur/pseuds/antiseed
Summary: “Is that what this is?” Mingyu asks, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Am I just your dog?”Minghao’s mouth is suddenly extremely dry. “If you were my dog I’d expect you to listen better.”





	sticks / stones

Mingyu is saying something— something about the design he has to make a prototype of this week— but Minghao can’t quite get himself to concentrate.

His attention is, instead, on the fact that Mingyu is wearing a black sweater. This wouldn’t be a big deal, except Minghao knows several things about this black sweater.

The first it that Mingyu was wearing it during his last stream. The second is that he must have washed it since then because he had the sleeves balled up over his hands and he kept pulling it down to cover his bare dick while mumbling shy answers to questions people sent him.

The third is that Mingyu is excited about whatever he’s supposed to be working on and he keeps wiggling his shoulders the same way he does on streams.

Minghao must stare vacantly at Mingyu’s chest for too long, because Mingyu reaches out and taps his shoulder, leaning down so his face takes up his whole field of vision.

“Did you fall asleep?” Mingyu says, grinning. Minghao jolts, leaning back when he realizes how close Mingyu is.

“No,” he says, his voice a little sour. He tries to shift a little further away from Mingyu, as subtly as he can, glaring out of the corner of his eye.

“Minghao’s in a bad mood again,” Soonyoung says, sitting across the table, shaking his head.

He’s not— even if he could happily reach across the table and put his hands around Soonyoung’s neck. Minghao isn’t in a bad mood, he’s just trying to find a way to contend with exactly how fucked up his life up— thanks to Soonyoung, at least a little bit.

“I’m fine,” Minghao says, hissing it out just a little in Soonyoung’s direction.

Soonyoung just grins back at him. “I thought I helped you fix that.”

Minghao could gladly dig himself a hole to lay down in.

“Am I annoying you?” Mingyu says, before Minghao can think of a response. He leans against Minghao’s side, pouting, putting his arm around Minghao’s shoulder so he can’t try to get away.

“You annoy me more than anyone,” Minghao says, absolutely not looking at Mingyu’s mouth inches from his face.

It doesn’t matter— looking him straight in the eyes is sort of worse, since Mingyu covers his mouth on camera and only pouts at the camera with his eyes.

Mingyu sulks at him even more, giving Minghao’s shoulders a shake.

“You can’t say that! I’m your favorite,” Mingyu whines, laying his chin on Minghao’s shoulder when he’s finished shaking him.

“Whatever,” Minghao says, willing himself not to give in and smile. The only thing worse than Soonyoung living on without realizing he’s ruined Minghao’s entire life would be making Soonyoung think he has a crush on Mingyu or something.

Which he doesn’t. His feelings for Mingyu are exactly what they’ve always been.

Except now there’s an added layer of bizarre sexual tension that Minghao can’t get over and Mingyu remains blissfully unaware of. 

“You didn’t say no,” Soonyoung says, the corners of his lips tipping up smugly.

“Say I’m your favorite,” Mingyu says, a smile spreading across his face when Minghao doesn’t try to shrug him off or push him away.

“Jun is my favorite,” Minghao says, still looking directly back at Mingyu.

“I’ll tell him you said that,” Soonyoung says, leaning forward with a grin like he’s suddenly invested in the outcome of this.

“Jun isn’t my favorite,” Minghao says immediately, shooting a glare at him.

Mingyu’s arms squeeze tighter around his shoulders, pulling Minghao against his chest.

“Say _Mingyu is my favorite_ ,” Mingyu says, more excited than sulky now.

Minghao opens his mouth to say something, shuts it, and shoots Mingyu a frown.

“Maybe sometimes,” Minghao says finally, unable to put up with the way Mingyu’s eyebrows creep together sadly when he doesn’t answer.

“I knew it,” Mingyu says, leaning in. For one confused moment, Minghao thinks Mingyu is going to do something like kiss his cheek. He actually just bumps his forehead against Minghao’s temple, nuzzling their heads together, and somehow that’s worse.

As much as he’d like to, he can’t get over the part of his brain that associates some of Mingyu’s regular behavior with his whole online act. It turns out that his original assumption of “Puppy” being fairly sincere was true in the worst way possible.

Minghao can feel the heat creeping up the back of his neck when Mingyu pulls away. Mingyu hums happily to himself, his shoulders giving another wiggle, and Minghao is almost tempted to fake sick and leave before he has to sit next to Mingyu during their next lecture and try not to die the whole time.

He doesn’t though, because he’s stupid.

“Are you still gonna help me on Thursday?” He asks, bumping his shoulder against Mingyu’s a little when he asks.

Mingyu wrinkles his nose in distaste. “Doing supply ordering?”

“I don’t wanna do it either,” Minghao says, shrugging. “You said you’d help the other night.”

“I said that when I was drunk,” Mingyu corrects, his teeth poking out when he smiles. “I like you more when you buy me wine, that’s why I said yes.”

Minghao pauses for a second, his eyes catching once again at the wide sleeve of Mingyu’s sweater.

“You’re faster at it than I am,” Minghao says, coaxing rather than scolding. “And if you come with me it might almost be fun.”

Only because he’s looking for it does Minghao notice the way Mingyu’s eyes brighten just a little bit.

“Are you asking be because I’m your favorite?” Mingyu asks, his eyebrows lifting.

“You will be if you come with me,” Minghao says, wondering if it’s just in his imagination that Mingyu is leaning in toward him just a little bit.

“Fine,” Mingyu says, giving his head a little shake. “Since you _need_ me to be there.”

For once, Minghao isn’t in the mood to argue as much as usual.

**{* * *}**

Mingyu huffs out a sad breath, head in his hands, staring straight through Minghao. He is, for once, not doing it over the anonymous connection of the internet and staring at Minghao through a screen.

He’s two feet away on the floor of the supply closet, leaning his cheek on his fist.

“This sucks,” he says and Minghao rolls his eyes.

“You can leave if you’re not gonna help,” Minghao says, looking back at the computer in his lap.

Mingyu heaves another sigh, pitching sideways to lean against Minghao’s shoulder. “I said I’d help.”

“You said that twice,” Minghao says, glancing over at the top of Mingyu’s head

“But this sucks,” Mingyu says, tilting his head to look up at Minghao. “This is really boring.”

“What would you rather be doing?” Minghao asks before he thinks better of it.

Mingyu hums, leaning his cheek on Minghao’s arm still, his weight draped along Minghao’s side.

“I dunno,” Mingyu says finally, dashing whatever terrible hopes Minghao might’ve had for what he might say. “Listen to Jihoon yell at his games.”

Minghao laughs, patting the top of Mingyu’s head without thinking. “So is this better than that, at least?”

He’s surprised when Mingyu’s head bumps back into Minghao’s palm, trying to prolong the contact. Minghao hesitates before stroking his fingers over Mingyu’s head once again, giving his hair a little ruffle.

“I guess so,” Mingyu says, chuckling. Minghao is forced to pull his hand away to continue entering numbers in the spreadsheet the two of them are supposed to be filling out.

Maybe it’s just in Minghao’s imagination that Mingyu pouts a little, but it makes him tempted to put his hand back on Mingyu’s head. Just to see if it’ll make him smile again.

They’re going to be here all night though if he doesn’t actually focus on the work he’s supposed to be doing. Even worse, he’s not going to get anything just from indulging Mingyu because he’s curious what Mingyu’s response would be.

“Can you grab me that box over there?” He asks instead, nodding at one fo the ones pulled down from the shelves.

Mingyu puffs his cheeks out, pouting. “Another one?”

“You came to help, didn’t you?” Minghao asks, glancing over and raising his eyebrows. 

_Are you gonna be good for me?_ Minghao resists asking, only barely.

“Fine,” Mingyu grumbles, pushing himself over and lugging the box of photographic paper over with a huff. He sits down, dropping the box inches away from one of Minghao’s feet, shooting him what’s probably meant to be a glare but comes out more as a petulant stare.

“Thanks,” Minghao says. Before he can think hard enough to stop it, Minghao finds himself reaching out, resting the hand on the back of Mingyu’s neck. It’s only for a second— just long enough to brush his thumb over the soft baby hairs at the nape of Mingyu’s neck before he pulls away again.

It’s enough though to make Mingyu freeze for several seconds, his gaze darting to the side, lips parted.

“Um,” Minghao says, his hand hovering in the air between them. “Good dog.”

Mingyu drops back to the floor, blinks twice, then smiles.

Minghao wonders if he’s known Mingyu too long to get away with playing the foreigner card. But Mingyu doesn’t start asking questions, or even really seem bothered in the least.

“Is that what this is?” Mingyu asks, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Am I just your dog?”

Minghao’s mouth is suddenly extremely dry. “If you were my dog I’d expect you to listen better.”

He looks away as he says it, trying to avoid looking like he’s waiting for Mingyu’s response. He’s not sure what he’s really trying to accomplish other than maybe spilling his guts in this tiny supply closet and ruining his relationship with his best friend.

If Mingyu suspects him of any of that, it doesn’t show on his face. He puffs his cheeks out, reaching out and giving Minghao’s arm a shake.

“You think I’d be bad?” He says, and Minghao could almost mistake his tone for genuine distress.

Minghao laughs and hopes it only sounds a little bit forced, reaching over to pinch at the lobe of Mingyu’s ear.

“I think you’d need training,” he says, giving Mingyu’s ear a little tug before his hand gets swatted away. Mingyu is laughing but when he looks, Minghao can see the lidded haziness of his eyes, the way his eyes dart from looking at Minghao off in a random direction. “Then maybe you would be good.”

Maybe it’s just the shitty, dim light in the closet that makes it seem like Mingyu is blushing, but the back of Minghao’s neck is hot. Mingyu’s laughter is shorter, a little more nervy and he shuts his mouth with a shake of his head. Minghao’s whole body is tense for no reason, his head pounding like his fight-or-flight response is trying to kick in and save him from saying anything else.

Mingyu’s tongue darts out over his lower lip so quickly that Minghao wouldn’t have noticed it if he wasn’t paying such painfully close attention.

“Whatever,” he says, shaking himself just a little, not quite looking at Minghao but still sulking in his direction. “I could be good.”

Minghao wonders if maybe this conversation is his karmic punishment for watching porn of his best friend and getting off on it. Or for not calling his parents often enough.

“Yeah?” He asks, his voice drifting out of his mouth without his permission. He must come off as challenging, or amused because Mingyu looks at him properly and wrinkles his nose.

“Sure,” he says, tiling his head back a little when he looks up. “I’m here helping, right? What’s the next thing you need me to do?”

Minghao clears his throat, hoping it isn’t too obvious, nudging the heavy box with his toe. “I need to know how much of that we have.”

Mingyu sighs, like the task is a huge burden, before pulling the top off the box and tugging it between his legs. “Alright, fine.”

Minghao goes back to glaring at the screen, pretending he’s reading over the inventory numbers that he already has, trying very hard not to think.

It doesn’t really work because now he has the image of Mingyu sitting at his feet promising to be good stuck in his head, where it’ll probably stick around to haunt him for the rest of his life. He enters the number Mingyu gives him without really thinking about it.

The change in Mingyu’s attitude is subtle but Minghao is paying far too much attention not to catch on. He spends less time bickering back and forth and glances at Minghao for just a second at the end of each box like he’s waiting for something.

“You’re doing a good job,” Minghao says, careful to make sure the right words come out this time. He tries to make it sound as casual as possible while also dying to see if praise really is what Mingyu is trying to get from him. “We’re almost done.”

Mingyu smiles and now Minghao is pretty sure he’s blushing, at least a little. He leans to the side, his cheek against Minghao’s knee, laughing.

“I can’t believe you tricked me into this,” he says, laughing. “I don’t even get paid like you do.”

“You wanted to be my favorite, right?” Minghao asks, patting the top of Mingyu’s head with a teasing grin.

“I know I was already,” Mingyu says, letting Minghao pat him without complaint. 

“Whatever,” Minghao says, pulling his hand away with a laugh. Mingyu hums, sitting up after a moment but wiggling a little bit closer so Minghao can feel the warmth against his leg.

Boring or not, Minghao thinks he could maybe drag the inventory out just a little longer.

**{* * *}**

Mingyu settles down on the bed in front of his laptop with a box in his hands. The mask he’s wearing this time has one of those glow-in-the-dark bear faces on it, though it’s just white in the bright lights of his room. He shakes the long sleeves of his sweater away from his hands to wave at the camera.

“Someone got me a present this week,” Mingyu says, holding up the box. It’s already been opened and Minghao guesses that’s where the mask came from since it’s something he’s never seen Mingyu wearing on a day-to-day basis.

He’s wearing what Minghao figures he was probably wearing all day; joggers and a sweater that’s somehow too big for his broad shoulders and long arms. Minghao can only guess at what size it must be and the thought of Mingyu, the tallest person he knows, trying to buy clothes to make himself look smaller makes him smile.

“Thank you,” Mingyu says, tilting his head to the side with his eyes scrunched into a smile. “I figured I’d test it out on camera for you guys.”

There’s something in his voice that makes Minghao pay a little closer attention, watching the tapping of Mingyu’s fingers on top of the box when he lays it in his lap.

He can sense the kind of shift in Mingyu’s attitude that only comes from being in tune with him already— capable of telling his playful pouts from genuine sullenness. Mingyu might be good at playing things up for the camera, but he’s never been good at truly hiding his feelings and when he’s looking for it, Minghao can see the slight dip of Mingyu’s posture.

Mingyu looks at the camera again, still smiling, opening the box and rustling around the paper inside it before pulling out what looks like a long, jelly-like tube with wires attached to it leading to a pair of remotes. Mingyu holds it up with a little laugh, scratching the back of his neck with his other hand.

“I unwrapped everything already,” he says, setting whatever the toy is supposed to be down on the bed. He runs his hands over his chest but less wandering, more like he’s fighting the urge to pull his sweater further down or something. It seems like he’s going to say something else but he gives his head a little shake, pulling his sweater off instead.

He looks down at the chat for a moment, reading it without actually responding to anything, one hand resting on his thigh but not doing much else.

“Ah, sorry,” Mingyu says, shaking his head again. “I think I’m a little dumb today.”

He says it with a laugh but Minghao can’t help the urge to scowl at the screen like if he spends enough time looking displeased he’ll be able to convey it directly to Mingyu. Minghao thinks— imagines, maybe— that the bags he’s noticed under Mingyu’s eyes the last few days might be showing up on camera as well.

Mingyu spends a little time playing with his chest and talking to the chat at the same time, most of his answers mundane and a little weak. He’s good, Minghao has noticed, at talking without actually giving any of the details of his life away but even here Minghao can feel a little bit of the creeping exhaustion in Mingyu’s tone.

He’d sort of rather see Mingyu watch some TV and take a nap than spend the little free time he does actually have fucking himself on camera. But he can’t exactly tell Mingyu that, either.

Mingyu pulls his joggers off after a bit, ducking his head and massaging his fingers over his cock, half-hard in his boxers but not heavy and straining the way he usually is by this point. It takes him a moment to tease himself all the way hard, a flush rising up his neck that Minghao thinks is more from embarrassment than anything else. His fingers twitch in the direction of his phone, even though he doubts Mingyu would look, even if he did know what to say.

He picks up the toy again, along with a bottle of lube from outside the frame. He dumps some of the slick fluid into his palm rather than directly on his skin, stroking it over the length of his cock with a little hiss that barely escapes from between his teeth. Minghao can see the tightening of his jaw when he slides the toy over his cock, the thick ring of it resting against the base with enough pressure that Mingyu wiggles his hips like he can’t quite settle himself down with it.

It turns out that the two attached remotes control two separate vibrators embedded within the ring. Mingyu turns the first one on, gasping at the mad buzzing of it. His voice is bordering too sharp, edging surprised rather than pleased. He drags his nails up the inside of his thigh, his brow furrowing, the tendons in his neck jumping out when he leans his head back.

Mingyu’s hand squeezes into a fist, releases, then squeezes tight again, kneading the sheets between his fingers. He looks back at the chat, his eyes squinted open, breath rolling in and out of his chest in heavy gasps.

“Too fast…?” Mingyu asks, the pink skin on his chest getting darker. He fumbles with the remote, turning the vibrator down with a little whine. “Sorry, ah.”

He shudders, teasing his thumb over the slit of his cock, gathering precome or lube and letting it drip off his skin. Mingyu’s thighs are trembling and with each passing second his hand creeps closer to wrapping around his dick but he’s still fairly quiet, staring down at the bed rather than at the screen of his computer.

Minghao is stuck more frustrated than aroused. It’s a strange thing to realize— that he’s more concerned than anything else. He can’t quite invest himself in the desire to do anything other than leave his apartment and go try to make Mingyu feel better.

Mingyu picks up the other remote, groaning as he turns the second vibrator on as well. His shoulders are shaking and Minghao finds himself stuck sitting with hands awkwardly in his lap. All his desire to try and jerk off to what Mingyu is doing is gone, but he feels weird about just turning the stream off, as well. If it were anyone else, he’d just log off and go do something productive, but with Mingyu it feels strangely like he’s just… ignoring him.

Mingyu whimpers, and in spite of the chat making suggestions that he should turn the toys up, or turn them off, or edge himself, he grabs his cock and slides his fist along his sticky skin. He’s fast and merciless about it, hand tight and hips fucking forward into his hand. It’s only when he makes a fractured, strained sound that Minghao realizes the ring must be tight enough to make it hard for Mingyu to finish. He hovers on the edge like that for what seems to Minghao like a painfully large time. He can see the layer of sweat that breaks out on Mingyu’s skin, drips of it sliding down his chest and the side of his neck. He keeps jerking himself off even though it doesn’t seem to be doing anything but making the torment of not being able to come even worse. 

Eventually he jerks the ring off, nails scrabbling over his skin in an attempt to grip it, dropping it to buzz madly on the sheets. He ignores it entirely, groaning long and low as he comes, his voice shaking like it might crack at any moment. He pants, wiping his hand lazily on his leg, looking at the screen in a way that’s almost shy.

Minghao is surprised to see that Mingyu is well short of his token goal at the bottom— something he’s never actually seen happen before. In spite of the weird, sometimes random hours he picks to stream, Mingyu seems to draw a fairly loyal following who are never tired of handing over their money.

It’s hard to tell from only half of his face, but Minghao thinks Mingyu seems disappointed with the number.

Without thinking about it, or listening to Mingyu try to piece together a friendly good-bye he leans over and grabs his phone off the desk.

 **[minghao:]** _you’re not busy right? Im on my way over_

He sends the message without thinking, setting his laptop on the bed while he fixes his clothes.

From somewhere off-screen, Mingyu’s phone chirps with a message notification. Mingyu’s eyes dart toward it before he looks back at the screen.

“Sorry, I don’t have time for anything else today,” Mingyu says, his voice softer than Minghao expects. He waves at the screen but for once, Minghao shuts the window before Mingyu does.

**{* * *}**

He gets halfway to Mingyu’s apartment when his message even gets an answer.

 **[mingyu:]** _right now???_

 **[minghao:]** _yeah._

When he knocks on the door, Mingyu yanks it quickly open. His face is still red, bangs stuck to the sticky skin of his forehead. He has on the same sweater as before, pulled low in an attempt to hide the fact that he’s wearing boxers but no pants.

Minghao decides it’s in his best interest not to comment on any of that. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Mingyu says, sounding almost out of breath.

He steps out of the way to let Minghao in and Minghao steps out of his shoes before walking back to Mingyu’s room ahead of him. It’s the same thing they always do— Mingyu and Jihoon don’t have a TV in the living room of their apartment so they usually hang out in Mingyu’s room, on the bed or on the floor.

“You wanna watch that baking show?” Minghao asks, glancing over his shoulder.

Mingyu’s room is more put together than he expected— anything that could be connected to his camboy career is carefully put away where Minghao can’t see it and his bed is neatly made, the comforter hiding any mess that he might have made out of the sheets.

It’s obvious that he must have spent his time tidying up the room rather than himself, but Minghao doesn’t really mind it.

Mingyu blinks at him, a little smile on his face. “You hate that show.”

“I just hate the one judge,” Minghao says, shaking his head. He sits down on the bed, dragging one of the pillows behind his back.

He’s trying to act like it’s perfectly normal for him to barge into Mingyu’s room with no warning and insist they watch his favorite TV show, even if it’s boring and Minghao always wants to fight the male judge.

“You really came over to watch Bake Off?” Mingyu asks, dropping to sit on the bed next to Minghao. “Are you going to complain if I imitate the English?”

“No,” Minghao says, laughing a little. “I won’t complain.”

Somehow (through very careful maneuvering on Minghao’s part) the end up with Minghao sitting up, leaning on the pillows, and Mingyu’s head in his lap. He has his fingers in Mingyu’s hair, stroking slowly through the glossy strands. The tips of his fingers trace the line of his hair behind his ear and Mingyu shivers, a little ticklish.

They’re on their third episode of the show and Minghao has kept to his word and hasn’t complained once, even about the seven times that Mingyu has said _soggy bottoms_ in a horribly fake British accent. He’s not even really in the mood to complain about anything. Mingyu has an arm tucked under his head, the other draped across Minghao’s legs and he keeps leaning his head back into the steady drag of Minghao’s fingers through his hair.

“Scratch my head,” Mingyu says, his voice a little fuzzy like he’s starting to drift off to sleep. Minghao smiles, dragging his nails over Mingyu’s scalp. Mingyu hums, melting further against Minghao, his eyes drooping half open. They have the volume turned low enough that Minghao can hear the soft tap of rain against Mingyu’s window and he’s still holding on to the hope that he can lull Mingyu into taking a nap.

“Do you want your belly rubbed too?” Minghao asks, teasing him a little, and Mingyu peeks his eyes open with a grin.

“Yeah,” he says, laughing and rolling onto his back, his head still in Minghao’s lap. “I kinda do.”

Minghao doesn’t even bother to argue with him or glare at him. He just lets Mingyu settle in, wiggling his shoulders a little to find the right spot, before stretching his arm out to rub slow circles in Mingyu’s stomach.

Mingyu seems almost surprised, probably because he usually has to annoy Minghao into doing anything for him, but he doesn’t say anything either. He shifts on his side enough to watch the screen of his computer a little better and Minghao continues petting his tummy because really, what else does he have to be doing.

“You didn’t answer me earlier,” Mingyu says, tilting his head to the side to look up at Minghao. “What’d you come over for?”

He came over for this— Mingyu looked like he needed someone to come take care of him. It reminds Minghao in a strange way of last winter when Mingyu caught a nasty cold and Minghao spent every afternoon in his apartment with a surgical mask on, giving him herbal remedies and petting his hair while he complained about being sick.

Maybe it’s because he’s so used to watching Mingyu take care of everyone else, but he sort of liked taking care of Mingyu while he was sick. He likes taking care of Mingyu now, too. If it wouldn’t be so weird, he’d do Mingyu’s next favorite thing and heap praise on him for awhile.

“Um, Seokmin needed the apartment,” Minghao says, giving the first excuse that comes to mind. His hand stalls, resting on Mingyu’s stomach rather than petting it.

There’s no way to explain exactly why the question makes him so nervous without spilling everything. He can’t exactly say that Mingyu looked like he’d rather be getting a massage than fucking himself on camera all afternoon without admitting he _watches_ Mingyu fuck himself.

“The whole thing?” Mingyu says, lifting his head up and laughing.

Minghao lifts his eyebrows suggestively and hopes that this conversation never actually makes it back to Seokmin.

“Oh,” Mingyu says, more entertained than embarrassed by the prospect of Minghao getting sexiled by Lee Seokmin, of all people. “Well, good for Seokmin, I guess.”

Minghao almost breathes out a sigh of relief. “Am I interrupting you or something?”

“Nah,” Mingyu says, laying his head back down, sighing in contentment when Minghao’s palm rubs up and down his side. “I really needed something like this, actually.”

Mingyu’s jaw stretches out in a yawn, his eyes starting to droop a little, and Minghao does his best to bite back all the stupid things he wants to say.

All the surreptitious reading that Minghao has done on the subject suggests that there’s a cooling off period associated with any kind of kink stuff, usually on the assumption that it’s done with a partner, to begin with. But, at least judging from the outside, Mingyu keeps everything pretty close to the chest and being a camboy means he doesn’t have anyone around for the aftercare.

Not that Minghao minds doing it now, he just sort of wishes he got to enjoy all the other parts, too.

“You falling asleep?” Minghao says, combing Mingyu’s bangs carefully away from his face.

“No,” Mingyu says, his eyes shut.

Minghao smiles, tilting his head back against the wall, letting his hand rest softly on the side of Mingyu’s neck. “Well, I am.”

Mingyu laughs, his voice soft, curling his fingers under his head. “You’re in my bed.”

“Kick me out then,” Minghao says, his thumb tracing the line of Mingyu’s jaw without thinking.

“No,” Mingyu says, reaching up to grab Minghao’s wrist. “Stay here.” 

Minghao is expecting Mingyu to pull his hand away, or to put it somewhere else at least, but that’s how he leaves it them, holding gently onto Minghao’s wrist. His hand is curled just so their fingertips brush.

For once, Minghao isn’t really sure what he should say.

**{* * *}**

Everything would be easier if Minghao didn’t drift off to sleep with Mingyu’s hand clutched around his wrist.

It would be easier if he didn’t wake up with Mingyu’s heavy head resting on his chest rather than his lap— Minghao having slipped down from his seated position and Mingyu apparently wiggling around to accommodate. Mingyu is still loosely holding onto his wrist when Minghao opens his eyes and he can’t quite make himself shake it off.

The world is slow to spin back into place: they left Bake Off playing on Mingyu’s laptop but it eventually paused when they didn’t click anything, it’s still raining and the room is several shades darker, Mingyu is curled up against Minghao’s side with no pants on.

Minghao breathes in, breathes out, and tries to take the scant few minutes he has before Mingyu wakes up to reevaluate his life. He can’t move, anyway, not without detaching himself from Mingyu and probably waking him up.

A month ago, he’d never thought about falling asleep with Mingyu holding his hand. He’d never thought about Mingyu wearing fake dog ears— or looking up at him from the floor and saying he could be good.

Which means whatever he’s feeling must be something new. He pulls his eyes away from staring at the top of Mingyu’s head to stare at the ceiling again, sleep still fuzzing up the corners of his vision. He’s not sure that it’s fair to call whatever he’s feeling a _crush_ except there’s no real better word for it, either. Lust wouldn’t compel him to barge in Mingyu’s apartment for the privilege of just taking a long nap together, or make him feel quite so satisfied waking up after. 

His feelings for Mingyu are bigger and deeper than they have any real right to be.

“Is it late?” Mingyu asks, his voice low and scratchy. He reaches his other arm across the bed, flopping his hand around a few times to find his phone. He looks at the time, groans, then lays his head back on Minghao’s chest. “I have a quiz online.”

“You should take it,” Minghao says, his fingers passing slowly through Mingyu’s hair.

Mingyu doesn’t sit up for a moment, until he looks down at where he’s holding Minghao’s arm and laughs, pulling his hand away. He sits up, legs still tangled with Minghao’s, hair rumpled from sleep.

Minghao isn’t sure which one of them starts the kissing— if he leans in first or if Mingyu does, but they manage to still meet in the middle. Mingyu’s mouth is soft, his lips a little dry from sleeping, and his fingers curl in the fabric of Minghao’s shirt. Minghao’s catch in the back of his hair, palm covering the nape of his neck.

He kisses Mingyu until he groans, mouth opening up, letting Minghao’s tongue slide over his. Minghao doesn’t want to pause to question what he’s doing— nails dragging over Mingyu’s scalp, letting his teeth drag over Mingyu’s lower lip— even when he has to press his forehead against Mingyu’s and remember to breathe.

“Um,” Mingyu says, the only thing he manages to get out before Minghao kisses him again. Mingyu doesn’t try to pull back or finish his thought, his fingers curling tighter in Minghao’s shirt, shifting closer so the bare skin of his thighs is rubbing against Minghao’s jeans. Minghao tugs his lower lip softly and Mingyu almost lets out a whine, the sound escaping his mouth in a hiss instead.

Minghao ends up with a hand on his waist, fingers digging in the soft fabric of his sweater, trying to resist the urge to haul Mingyu in until their hips are pressed properly together, to _really_ get him to whine.

“Fuck, fuck. Wait,” Mingyu says, his voice shaking when he leans back. Minghao blinks, his face flushing bright red, yanking his hand back.

“Are you like, awake?” Mingyu asks, his eyes glazed over, lips wet. “Do you know where you are?”

“Do you think I just make out with people in my sleep?” Minghao asks, his eyes dragging over the long tendon in Mingyu’s neck.

“No, but,” Mingyu says, shaking his head and dropping his eyes a little. “I also don’t think you came over to make out with _me.”_

“I didn’t,” Minghao says, swallowing hard and trying to force himself to focus on something other than the inviting stretch of Mingyu’s throat. “I just came over to see you.”

His hazy brain makes it too easy for an honest answer to fall out and Mingyu’s cheeks go a shade darker.

“That doesn’t usually involve this,” Mingyu says, laughing a little awkwardly. 

“Would it be bad if I want it to?” Minghao says, not sure if he should try to wiggle away and give Mingyu more space or stay where he is.

Mingyu purses his lips like he’s trying hard not to smile. “Are you asking just because you wanna fool around?”

Yes. _No._ Minghao doesn’t have an answer that makes any sense. What is he supposed to say? That he watched Mingyu’s pet play streams one too many times and now he wants… he’s not sure what.

“It wouldn’t be bad,” Mingyu says, while Minghao continues wrestling with himself. “It would be better if it was more than that.”

It takes a moment for Minghao to really catch up. He opens his mouth, stutters out an awkward sound, then shuts it again.

“Sorry,” Mingyu says, pulling back with a wounded laugh. “Too much?”

“I found your stream thing,” Minghao says, sitting up properly once again. “It’s Soonyoung-hyung’s fault.”

“What thing?” Mingyu says, blinking his eyes like he’s confused at the same time his face turns bright red.

“Do you want me to say it?” Minghao asks. Mingyu’s face just goes redder. “Sorry… I wasn’t like, being weird. I just recognized some of the pictures from when we were in that pink bathroom. I didn’t tell anyone.”

“Wasn’t that awhile ago?” Mingyu asks his forehead wrinkling slightly. Minghao opens his mouth without making a sound and a slow grin spreads on Mingyu’s face. “Have you been watching me that long?”

Longer, not that he wants Mingyu to know it.

“Sorry,” he says, wiggling his way closer to the edge of the bed.

“Does that mean you’re okay with that?” Mingyu asks, his head tilted to the side. 

“Which part?” Minghao asks, his voice sounding slightly strangled.

“All of it,” Mingyu says, shrugging his shoulders. “Camming beats working retail. And the other stuff is, um…”

“I’m good with it,” Minghao says, rushing his way through just a little bit. “All of it.”

“All of that?” Mingyu asks, a wide smile spreading slowly over his face, showing the points of his canines. “What about more than that?”

“More?” Minghao asks, the gears in his brain grinding together. “You do more than the puppy thing?”

Mingyu flushes pink but shakes his head, ducking it a little and laughing. “No, I mean more like… going on a date.”

“Oh,” Minghao says, then repeats it more loudly. “ _Oh._ ”

This is maybe the strangest way he’s ever been asked out. Mingyu stares at him, his fingers worming together.

“Yeah,” Minghao says, giving his head a little shake and reaching out to pull Mingyu toward him once again. “I’m good with that too.”

**Author's Note:**

> @97lesbian on twitter OR if you only want to see tweets directly related to fic updates you can follow @knightspur_ao3


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